


and I can hear you from the mountains (screaming my name)

by colourexplosion



Series: calling (screaming) your name [1]
Category: The Avengers (2012), The Avengers - All Fandoms
Genre: Consent Issues, Dubious Consent, M/M, Sex Pollen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-23
Updated: 2012-05-23
Packaged: 2017-11-05 21:41:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/411303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colourexplosion/pseuds/colourexplosion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>in which the whole team gets vapored during battle and it affects everyone differently. Tony finds out, first-hand, how it affects Steve.</p><p>(marked as rape/non-con, but only to be safe. more similar to dub-con.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	and I can hear you from the mountains (screaming my name)

**Author's Note:**

> TW: dub-con! I cannot stress this enough. 
> 
> the team gets vapored during an attack and steve's reaction is similar to that of a sex pollen.

The vapor is a faint green color, and judging from the looks on the rest of the teams’ faces, it doesn’t smell very good. Or taste very good, apparently, since Hawkeye just vomited in the middle of the street. 

“Lookin’ a little green there, buddy. Careful, Hulk’ll get jealous,” Tony quips, thankful, yet again, for the suit’s filtration system. Hawkeye groans over the comm, and somewhere in the distance, the Hulk roars. Tony wonders if the vapor affects him, as well. 

Steve doesn’t seem to be too messed up by it. He’s still walking straight-- unlike Natasha, who’s run into the same car three times, can she even _see?_ \-- and he’s not vomiting, and not running around like a maniac, like Thor, like a puppy who’s just been taken outside after spending the whole night in his crate. 

“Avengers, report!” Tony winces at the sound in his ear, because hello, Cap, you don’t need to yell. 

“I’m fine,” he says, shrugging. Not that anyone can see him while he’s up in the air. None of the others report back, though, and okay, maybe Tony’s starting to get a little worried. 

He lands next to Steve, puts his hands on his hips. 

“I think it’s affecting everyone differently,” Tony says, watching the team struggle to get themselves together. Steve doesn’t say anything, just nods, and Tony scoffs. 

“Fine, I guess I’ll call Richards. See you back at the Tower!”

And he’s off, calling Reed on his way back to the lab. 

\---

“Hey Cap,” Tony says, not looking up from his armor. Who else would be walking into his lab? Pepper’s on some business trip, and as far as Tony knows the rest of the team is being examined by Richards and _his_ team. “What’s the story? We know what’s making everyone go bananas yet?” 

“No,” Steve says, voice much lower and much quieter than usual. There’s something else wrong with it, but Tony can’t quite place it. “Reed’s working very hard, though.” 

Steve approaches Tony from behind, leans his hip on the table, almost uncomfortably close. And, all right, it’s not really a secret that Tony has a thing for Steve, for _Captain America_ , but he’s had it since he was eight years old. It’s not something he’s ever expected to come to fruition, because they’re best friends, and it’s a childhood crush. Whatever. He wasn’t aware that Steve had caught on. 

And, come to think of it, it’s not really like Steve to taunt someone, so maybe it’s a harmless mistake. Yep. That sounds reasonable. Maybe the vapor made Steve lose his personal boundaries or something. 

“Watch out. Might get burned,” Tony says, much quieter than usual, and Steve _smirks_ at him like nothing Tony’s ever seen or expected. He knows he’s seen that face before, but not on Steve, and usually he’s the one smirking like that at other people and--oh. Steve reaches out, runs a finger down the edge of Tony’s button-down, that smirk still plastered on his face. 

“Maybe I’d like to get burned,” Steve murmurs, and Tony’s breath hitches at the sound of Steve’s voice alone. Jesus _fuck._

Steve reaches the bottom, tugs on the hem of Tony’s shirt and slips the bottom button free. 

“Hey, I like this shirt too, but if you want to borrow something, you ask,” Tony says, deflecting, making a joke out of something that he doesn’t understand, as always. He tries not to concentrate on the way Steve’s smirk gets _bigger_ , on the way his fingers nimbly work their way to the top in almost no time. Tony tries not to gasp when Steve pushes the shirt off of his shoulders, the cold air of the workshop making goosebumps rise on his arms. 

Steve tugs the shirt down Tony’s arms and leaves it in a heap on the floor. Tony pretends he’s not breathing as heavily as he is and he pretends he doesn’t see the way Steve’s pupils are dilated, or the way he licks at his lower lip at the sight of Tony’s exposed arms. 

“Steve, what are you doing?” Tony has to ask, because while he’s kind of okay with this, he’s not sure he’s okay with where things are going (no, that’s a lie, he’s perfectly fine where this is going), or why Steve’s doing this in the first place. What if this is just the vapor? No, this has to be the vapor, there’s no other explanation. 

Steve doesn’t answer, just puts his hands on Tony’s hips and changes their position, pins him to the table, his fingertips teasing under the hem of Tony’s tank top. Tony’s stomach flutters at each brief touch, and he tries to squirm away, but Steve catches him. 

“This really isn’t a good idea. You need to go to Reed, he’ll help you, I promise. This isn’t--” Tony gasps as Steve’s hands slide up his torso, taking the tank top as they go, the sudden full skin contact making Tony tense up. “This isn’t right,” he manages to choke out, and Steve laughs, a sound low in his throat that goes straight to Tony’s cock. 

“Isn’t it?” Steve asks, leaning in, leaving the tank top rucked up around Tony’s collarbone. His hands slide down again, a thumb catching a nipple, rough, and Tony makes an embarrassing noise. “Isn’t this what you want?”

Tony closes his eyes, turns his head away as Steve leans in, breath hot against Tony’s ear. 

“I see the way you look at me,” he says, and Tony has to fight to keep from making another noise. Steve’s hands trail around his waistband, unzipping his flies and pushing the pants down his hips. “I know everyone thinks I’m a prude-- that I don’t know what sex is, that I don’t understand. But I do. I know that look in your eye when you think I can’t see you, the way you stare too long as I walk away--” Steve’s hands find their way to Tony’s hips again, squeezing, before one slips down the front of Tony’s boxers, gripping him firmly and stroking. 

“I know what this is, and exactly what you want me to do with it.” 

“Oh yeah?” Tony asks, licking his own lips, meeting Steve’s eyes for the first time. “Congratulations, you discovered porn on the internet. Now, are you gonna do something about it, or are you gonna stand here and talk about it all day, you--”

He feels the pain bloom from his cheekbone, dangerously close to his jaw before he hears the slap-- hears himself choke on air. 

“If you say something like that again, I’m going to have to shut that pretty mouth of yours for you,” Steve _growls_ , a hand coming to twist into the hair at the back of Tony’s head, pulling his head back. Tony hasn’t been manhandled like this since he went to Amsterdam in ‘96, and while that had been a fun experience, there was a reason he doesn’t really want to repeat it. 

“Steve,” he says, desperate, and the grip loosens. Tony sniffs deeply, feels the tears at the corner of his eyes and Steve’s hand on his jaw, infinitely gentle. 

“Shh, shh, shh,” Steve coos, thumb running over Tony’s lip, making it tingle and making his dick twitch again. Steve leans in, presses their foreheads together, rubs their noses. It’s nauseatingly cute, except for how it isn’t, because the look in Steve’s eyes is hungry, _starving_ , like a fucking jungle cat, and Tony is his goddamned prey. 

“I’m gonna make it all better,” Steve says, thumb still teasing Tony’s lower lip. “Promise.” 

And then Steve’s thumb is gone and is replaced by his mouth, his tongue, licking into Tony’s like he isn’t from the Forties, when men were Respectable. No, this is dirty, _filthy_ , and Tony moans at the mere thought alone. His hands move around Steve’s neck, needing something to hold onto because he feels like he’s about to fall apart. Hands all over Tony’s body, kissing like he’s dying for it, and Tony can’t breathe, can’t catch his breath and doesn’t want to. 

Steve pulls away-- leaves Tony reeling, chasing for his mouth-- to grab Tony by the thighs and lift him onto the worktable. Tony only has a second to marvel at the _strength_ before Steve’s slamming their mouths together again, making a ravenous noise that Tony swallows. 

 

Tony finds himself gripping tightly to Steve’s arms and shoulders to keep his head on straight, to prove to himself that yes, this is, in fact, happening. 

He hears the click of Steve’s belt buckle against the tables’ edge, the sound of pants sliding down skin and he feels Steve press against him, rock forward, and Tony moans. 

“You gonna help me?” Steve asks, sliding two fingers into Tony’s mouth, and he can’t answer like that, so he just hollows out his cheeks and sucks, making sure to keep eye contact. Steve’s pupils dilate _more_ , and fuck, they’re almost black. He can see the tiniest peep of blue ringing around, and he wants to moan again, but can’t, because Steve’s just shoved another finger into Tony’s mouth. 

Steve removes them, shoves Tony’s boxers down just enough and presses a finger in, gentler than Tony expects, given, well, everything else. 

He quickly adds another, works them until it’s almost easy and then adds the third, spreading them. Tony groans at the sudden stretch, back arching, and Steve-- damn him, fuck him-- Steve _laughs._

“I knew you’d like that,” he says, and Tony still can’t catch his breath, because if he could he’d totally have a great comeback. Maybe. 

Steve pulls out his fingers and spits into his hand, and Tony watches as he coats his dick, looks back up at Steve’s face, whimpers embarrassingly, and braces himself against the table. 

“Oh, you’re so good to me,” Steve says, and seriously, _what the fuck_ , Tony’s supposed to be saying things like that, not Steve. Never Steve. Steve’s not a _dirty talker_ , this makes no sense. 

An arm wraps around Tony’s waist, pulls him close so he can feel the tip of Steve’s dick at his opening. “Spread so wide to take me. I’m big, you know, probably bigger than anyone you’ve had before,” Steve tells him, teasing his tip in and out, and fuck, he needs to stop that, or Tony’s going to-- to do _something_ , he isn’t sure what exactly, but god--

“You wanna know a secret?” Steve says, pressing the small of Tony’s back against the edge of the table-- oh, Tony’s going to feel _that_ tomorrow, all of it, really-- and nipping at Tony’s jaw. 

Tony takes a heaving breath, gets halfway through it before Steve slams into him and loses the rest in a gasp. 

“What’s that?” Tony chokes it out, hands gripping the edges of the table so hard his knuckles are probably white. He needs Steve to _move_ , but he’s afraid if he tells him, Steve will pull out completely, which would be worse. 

“I was always this big,” Steve answers against his ear, pulling out to thrust in again, hard, somehow hitting Tony’s prostate without even seeming to try. Unfair. 

Tony’s response, unsurprisingly, is lost in a series of moans that are caused by Steve’s relentless pace, the bruising grip on his thighs and the way his mouth is attached to his neck, just under his jaw, leaving a mark. Tony can’t really do much except let it happen, so he does. He lets himself be fucked by Captain America on his worktable in his lab in New York. 

When he comes, his vision whites out, and then goes completely black. 

\---

Tony wakes up in his room, in his own bed, blinking at the ceiling. 

He aches-- which he knows is normal, and really, he doesn’t feel _that_ bad, though he also hasn’t moved yet-- and he swears he can feel the mark under his jaw. 

He’s also acutely aware of the person next to him in the bed, slumbering soundly on top of the blankets with a shock of blonde hair. Steve looks so peaceful; Tony can’t really believe that...thing between them happened. 

Steve stirs, and Tony thinks, for one terrifying moment, _what if he’s still being affected by the vapor_. But then, Steve wakes, and Tony can tell by his posture that he’s normal again. 

And then he thinks, _what if he doesn’t remember?_

“Tony?” Steve says, voice gravelly, and damn if that doesn’t send a jolt of recognition straight down his spine. 

“Hey, sleepyhead.” Tony laughs, nervous, because what else can he do? What is there to say when your best friend gets vapored in battle and then comes down to your workshop later and kind of maybe forces you to have sex that you definitely like but don’t know if you fully consented to? 

“Why am I in your room?” Steve asks, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. Tony wants to describe him as precious, but knows better than to do that, especially after last night. 

“You, uh-- you don’t remember?” Tony tries not to sound disappointed. (Because why would he be disappointed? It’s better if he doesn’t remember, right?) He’s not sure he succeeds. 

Steve starts to shake his head, and then his eyes widen at something on Tony-- presumably the large, purple mark that Tony can _still feel_ \-- and he scoots off the bed so fast he falls off of it with a loud _thud._

“You all right, big guy?” Tony asks after a moment, and Steve coughs. Tony sighs, crawls over to the side of his bed-- which, okay, ow, he does hurt a lot, Steve should be thankful that Tony’s making this effort-- and peers over the side, raising an eyebrow. 

He’s about to crack a joke when he notices the look on Steve’s face, how sad it is, and something in his chest seizes up, and his words catch in his throat. 

“Hey,” he says instead, reaching down. “Stop, hey, look at me.” 

“Tony,” Steve chokes out, sounding so, so broken and Tony hasn’t heard him sound like that in a long time. Not since Thor brought that super strong mead from Asguard and got Steve drunk for about ten minutes before his metabolism kicked in. “I’m so sorry, I just--”

“It was the vapor,” Tony says, giving him an out. Of course Steve hadn’t actually wanted to fuck him. That’s ridiculous. Steve is straight, and even if he isn’t, he doesn’t want someone like _Tony._ “Don’t worry about it, really. I understand.” 

Steve looks up at him, confused and hurt, and lets out a breath. “How can you say that? Tony, I-- I-- You-- We didn’t-- It wasn’t-- You didn’t say yes,” he finally spits out, and Tony laughs. 

“Well, I didn’t say no, either, and I don’t know if you noticed, but I definitely enjoyed myself, for the most part, so you’re fine, you’re off the hook, please,--” because Tony really does not want to discuss the fact that he may have actual feelings for Steve that go deeper than just a romp in the lab, and he knows it’s fucked up, but that’s Tony Stark. “--just. We can just forget about it.” 

Steve’s brow furrows, and Tony looks away. 

“Don’t ask, don’t tell, right?” Tony says, throwing off his covers and forcing himself to move through the pain so he can escape. “Look, I’m gonna take a shower. You know the way out.” 

“Tony,” Steve starts, but Tony cuts him off with a wave of his hand. 

“Seriously, Rogers, it’s fine. No one has to know, or whatever, if you’re ashamed. It’s really not that big of a deal. I promise, if it was, you’d be hearing about it.” Tony walks into his bathroom, shuts the door and turns on the shower as hot as it will go so it scalds his skin when he steps under it. 

He hears the click of his bedroom door and leans against the counter and doesn’t look at his reflection in the mirror.


End file.
